‘Devil!’ said the king angrily, ‘Tribikram, who preserved her bones, by that act placed himself in the position of her son; therefore he could not marry her. Madhusadan, who, restoring her to life, gave her life, was evidently a father to her; he could not, then, become her husband. Therefore she was the wife of Baman, who had collected her ashes.’
‘I am happy to see, O king,’ exclaimed the Vampire, ‘that, in spite of my presentiments, we are not to part company just yet. These little trips I hold to be, like lovers’ quarrels, the prelude to closer union. With your leave we will still practise a little suspension.’
And so saying, the Baital again ascended the tree, and was suspended there.
‘Would it not be better,’ thought the monarch, after recapturing and shouldering the fugitive, ‘for me to sit down this time and listen to the fellow’s story? Perhaps the double exercise of walking and thinking confuses me.’
With this idea Vikram placed his bundle upon the ground, well tied up with turban and waistband; then he seated himself cross-legged before it, and bade his son do the same.
The Vampire strongly objected to this measure, as it was contrary, he asserted, to the covenant between him and the Raja. Vikram replied by citing the very words of the agreement, proving that there was no allusion to walking or sitting.
Then the Baital became sulky, and swore that he would not utter another word. But he, too, was bound by the chain of destiny. Presently he opened his lips, with the normal prelude that he was about to tell a true tale.